


Joy in Laughter

by angelsaves



Category: Kushiel's Legacy - Jacqueline Carey
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-09
Updated: 2015-12-09
Packaged: 2018-05-05 18:30:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5386016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelsaves/pseuds/angelsaves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An afternoon at Orchis House: the lady Rosamonde de Sauveterre chooses an adept for her pleasure.</p><p>Thank you so much for betaing, sasha_feather!</p><p>This is a Yuletide treat!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Joy in Laughter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Edonohana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edonohana/gifts).



The adepts of Orchis House stood in a line for the pleasure of the patron, a grave woman, dark of eye and hair, and awaited her selection, nudging one another with mirth. Her dark blue velvet gown was restful to the eye, if a bit somber for my tastes, and I liked the look of her a great deal.

"A woman, I think," the patron said, and I, along with the other female adepts, took a half-step forward. Her gaze traced our faces, one by one. As it reached me, I winked at her, the merest flutter of lashes. "That one -- the redhead."

"Aurélie," said the Dowayne. I came forward and dipped a curtsey, clasping the patron's hand in both of mine and kissing her knuckles. "An excellent choice, my lady."

He couldn't very well have said otherwise, but I glowed with pleasure nonetheless. "I shall endeavor to do my House proud, sir."

"I would expect no less from you." The Dowayne nudged me lightly between the shoulder blades, just below the nearly-complete finial of my marque. "Now, go show my lady de Sauveterre your chamber."

By this, of course, he meant the chamber set aside for my use with patrons; the one I slept in alone was piled high with books and discarded gowns, hardly the image a House of the Night Court wishes to put forth. "My lady?" I said, offering her my arm.

"My thanks, Aurélie." She took my elbow with cool fingers, and I led her to the chamber, bedecked with silk hangings in bright colors, shades of pink and red and orange; a potted orchid echoed the colors, its wavy petals reminiscent of a woman's sex.

"Please, make yourself comfortable," I told her, closing the door. Some patrons were inclined to undress; others, more modest, merely sat down on the bed. My lady de Sauveterre did the latter, settling amidst the piled cushions and removing her slippers. 

"Will you sit?" she asked me, patting the space next to her. "And, if you please, call me Rosamonde. I certainly don't wish to think of my mother-in-law when I am with such pretty company."

I smiled at her and tossed my red curls as I took a seat. "As you wish, Rosamonde." I could feel the fine hairs on her bare arms rise at my nearness.

"I must admit, I am uncertain of the protocol here," Rosamonde told me. "This is my first visit to the Court of Night-Blooming Flowers."

"I had guessed as much." I tucked my chilled feet up beneath my green silk skirts, which had the twin effects of warming them and pressing my knee gently against Rosamonde's velvet-clad thigh. "May I ask, what led you to come here?"

Rosamonde sighed. "I wed young," she said, "and it was my late husband who initiated me into Naamah's arts." Her face was sad and closed off, precisely the opposite of my goal.

"Do you miss him very much?" I ventured.

"Not as much as I once did. Grief wears away with time, like stone. But every time I've even thought of pleasure in the past two years, Étienne's face..." She trailed off, and I picked up the thread.

"So you wish to form new memories, less tied to grief." She nodded; I beamed. "That," I informed her, "is my specialty."

Rosamonde returned my smile. "It does not surprise me," she said. "I have a feeling that you are -- memorable."

I fluttered my eyelashes at her, making her laugh. "I strive to be," I said. "Now -- you asked about protocol. There is little structure here, only pleasure. What would you like to do?"

She gazed at me for a moment, thoughtfully. "I would like to kiss you," she said after a moment.

I smiled at her. "I would like that very much." There is a kind of knowing that comes to all servants of Naamah -- and, in truth, to anyone who worships her. I did not need to ask to know that Rosamonde would prefer to initiate the kiss; I looked up at her from beneath my lashes and waited.

Rosamonde breathed out softly, near enough that I could feel it ghost across my lips. She breathed in, and our lips met in a gentle kiss.

"Oh," Rosamonde whispered. I took the opportunity of her parted lips to deepen the kiss, just a touch, then leaned back. She yearned towards me, then appeared to catch herself and returned to her perfect posture. "I -- that was -- I believe I chose well," she said, fidgeting with a fold of her heavy gown.

I could feel the shimmering warmth that signified Naamah's grace beginning to descend upon us. "I believe so," I said."May I help you with your gown?"

A flush warmed the tops of Rosamonde's cheeks. "You may," she said, and turned her back so that I might reach the neat column of buttons that fastened it. The neckline dipped modestly low in back -- not so low as I intended to wear mine once my marque was made, but lower than the gown I wore now.

I ran one finger down the buttons and laid a kiss upon the top knob of her spine. Rosamonde shivered delicately. "Are you well?" I asked solicitously.

"Very well," she responded, swaying back just a hairsbreadth into my touch. I made short work of the fastenings -- one does not grow up a foundling in the Night Court without a deft touch for such things -- and helped Rosamonde out of the sleeves, leaving her in just a fine cambric shift.

She turned to face me again. Her nipples stood out in dark points against the thin fabric, echoing the darkness of her eyes. "I should like to kiss you again," she said, the heat of desire plain in her voice.

This time, I took the initiative, bending close and brushing our mouths together. This time, when I began to pull away, Rosamonde let out a soft, plaintive moan that I found irresistible; I threaded one hand into the dark mass of her hair and pulled her tight to me, exploring her mouth with my tongue.

It was she who broke away this time, breathing hard, eyes gone even darker, lips swollen beautifully. "I want --" she began, then cut herself off.

"Tell me what you want," I encouraged her. "I promise you, you won't shock me."

"How do you know?" she asked wryly. "They say the scions of Elua are notorious for their unusual desires."

I laughed, flinging myself back on the bed. "Would you like to hear about some of those unusual desires? None of them shocked me; at most, I requested time to learn to satisfy them." I kissed her beneath the jaw, making her laugh as well. "Do you wish for a touch of pain? A touch of dominance? Perhaps a crown, to play the parts of queen and penitent? Only say the word, and I shall do my best to make it so."

Rosamonde stroked the side of my face. "You are lovely," she told me.

"Thank you," I said, and pulled a grimace to see her smile, and then feel her smile against my lips as we kissed.

"May I touch you?" she asked.

"Of a surety," I said. "I am yours to explore as you wish."

"Hmm." One of Rosamonde's cool hands pressed against the swell of my rear; the other stroked the smooth skin where the bodice of my gown pushed my breasts together, mapping the valley with her fingertips. She traced the neckline slowly, then dipped beneath it to find one of my nipples. "Does this please you?" she asked, gently rolling the little nub.

"It does," I said, my breath coming faster.

"I should like to taste," Rosamonde said musingly.

"Let me assist you." I eased my gown off my shoulders and down to pool about my waist, freeing my breasts. Rosamonde lifted them in her hands, kissing each nipple in turn, her tongue flicking out delicately.

"Hmm," she said again. "I am minded to put you on your back." In a quick motion, she pushed me backwards and climbed atop me, straddling one of my thighs.

I laughed, delighted, and Rosamonde laughed with me as she leaned down to taste her fill of my skin. Absently, she began to grind her hips against mine in the age-old rhythm of desire; I arched up to meet her thrusts, and she sighed happily.

"Rosamonde," I said, "may I perform the _languisement_?"

"Oh," she said, the sound drawn out as she rolled her hips. "Please."

That was exactly what I had hoped to hear. I flipped the pair of us over, using a wrestling move I had learned from an Eglantine adept, and slid down off the bed to kneel at her feet. Thus positioned, I stroked her legs, gently, from ankle to knee, feeling the sweet curves there, then continued to push her shift up, past her knees, past her hips, until the apex of her thighs was revealed.

"Oh, yes," I said, and kissed the soft rise of her lower belly. Then, the imp of my House rising within me, I blew a raspberry there. 

"Aurélie!" Rosamonde cried, laughing and curling up tightly -- but when she relaxed, her thighs spread a little wider.

"Ahh," I said with pleasure, parting them further with my hands, and let my breath move over the damp petals of her sex. "You are so beautiful, Rosamonde." She was already wet, dripping with sweet juices, and I could not wait to taste her. "May I?"

"Yes," Rosamonde said, "oh, yes," and I wasted no time licking a stripe between her petals, questing for her pearl of Naamah. I found it, standing proud in its soft sheath of flesh, and sucked at it gently. "Oh, Naamah!"

She arched her hips into my mouth. I took her unarticulated cue and sucked harder, fluttering my tongue over her pearl as Rosamonde moved under my tongue, crying out prayers and benedictions. Her climax hit her like a wave crashing on the shore, again and again.

When, after Naamah alone knew how long, Rosamonde pulled away from me, my face was wet with her juices, and my tongue felt well-used.

"Sweet Aurélie," said Rosamonde. "Come up here, with me." I climbed up onto the bed, and Rosamonde pulled me down to her, kissing the taste of herself out of my mouth. "That was a delight."

"For me as well," I told her.

She traced the line of my marque, up to the finial where the final blooming orchid belonged. "What will you do when your marque is completed?"

"Continue to serve Naamah," I said straightaway. "I have never desired anything more than to bestow joy in giving her service."

"Good," Rosamonde said. "It would be a pity to lose a talent such as yours to some other world -- and I would regret having had only one assignation with you."

I was lost. "What do you mean?"

Rosamonde laughed. "I mean I intend to give you a very generous patron gift -- one which will, if I am not mistaken, allow you to make your marque."

"Rosamonde!" I covered my mouth with one hand. "How -- I cannot thank you enough -- are you certain?"

She gave me a lingering kiss. "I am," she said. "I don't expect you to understand the political implications of my being able to receive pleasure unmixed with grief, but I assure you they are great. Truly, this is the least I can do for such a gift."

"My lady," I said.

"Rosamonde," she corrected me. "This will not be the last you see of me, Aurélie." She started to get out of the bed, but I reached out for her.

"Surely you have a little more time," I wheedled, and Rosamonde smiled.

"Perhaps," she said, and lay back in my arms.


End file.
